


Anomaly

by HonouraryWomanofLetters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Season/Series 15, Alternate Season/Series 15 Finale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode: s15e18 Despair, F/M, Fix-It, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Season/Series 15, Season/Series 15 Spoilers, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27428824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HonouraryWomanofLetters/pseuds/HonouraryWomanofLetters
Summary: The pattern of Dean's life is laid bare before him: he is given a chance, and he does nothing. And now that might have cost him everything.Following Cas' confession, Dean comes to a resolution. He needs to break the pattern.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 50
Kudos: 355





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been watching this show since 2010, and can honestly say that for the first time in years I am excited about the direction it's going. I couldn't help but add my own post 15x18 fic to the wonderful flurry of works that have been coming out! In it I'm laying out how I think things could play out, staying as close to canon (including any previews etc) as possible. Warning for language--I'm letting the characters think and talk how I think they would if they weren't on network television. Enjoy!

The rushing sound of that sweeping black nothingness still echoed through the dungeon as Dean sat up, stunned, against the cold brick wall.

He was alone.

Only moments before, the Empty had consumed Death, an afterthought in its mission to claim the life of the angel that had thwarted it. The angel who, moments before that, had opened a hole in Dean’s chest that now felt as gaping and empty as that creeping blackness had been.

_I love you._

There it was, Cas had said it. Cas had finally said it, and then he died. If Dean had articulated to himself, before, on those rare occasions when he felt just raw enough to even consider what could be lingering in the air between him and Cas all those years, what was the worst thing that could happen if he just _said_ something, it wouldn’t have been as bad as this. Cas would leave, Cas would reject him, but even he hadn’t thought anyone would _die_.

The paralyzing shock wore off abruptly. Cas was _gone_. He felt himself shaking before registering the tears, the shuddering gasps tearing through his lungs.

Cas had poured his heart out to him, and he’d just stood there. He didn’t even give the guy a damn hug, he just clammed up. What could he say? He’d never wanted someone to shut up so badly, while also wanting to beg him to continue. The things that Cas said were so completely underserved, and Dean had desperately wanted to hear them. It was like Cas looked at every shitty thing about him and decided that it was okay, like he was polishing up all those dark ugly parts of him until they were shiny and good. He should have made Cas stop. If he’d understood faster what was happening, he could have shut that cloying, needy part of himself away and physically made Cas stop talking. And then he’d be here, and Dean would have found a different way, he could have turned himself over to Billy and bought Cas some time to escape. But he hadn’t, he’d just stood there, he didn’t stop Cas from calling the Empty, and he didn’t even bother to offer the guy any kind of recognition or comfort or _love_ in his final fucking moments.

He'd said nothing. He had one shot to not be such a fucking coward, and he’d blown it, and it was his last chance, and now Cas was dead.

He was vaguely aware that Sam was still calling long after he’d decided not to answer. What did it matter? What could Sam offer that was worse than this, who could be gone that would even come close?

Dean replayed Cas’ words over in his mind. _The one thing that I want, it’s something I know I can’t have._ Dean knew exactly what Cas had meant. It was the same thing that Dean wanted, that Dean couldn’t have, because it didn’t make sense that Cas would want that too. So Dean had never let either of them have the one thing that would have made Cas happy. How long had he wanted it? If Dean had said something years ago, the empty never could have used it as a bargaining chip now.

 _Don’t do this, Cas._ After all that Cas had done for him, everything they’d been through, those were the last words he’d said to him. He hadn’t even realized that it was already too late, that the angel had already sacrificed himself, that there was no more room for begging, no more time to talk Cas out of it. Just saying those three words had sealed Cas’ fate. That was Cas’ true happiness? Cas loved him so much that just saying it, just letting himself feel it was enough complete his deal with the Empty, and Dean had given him nothing in return, and now never could.

He thought of all the other times that Cas had died. It was always tinged with regret; Dean always cursed his inability to be honest with himself and honest with Cas after. He had spent months thinking that, if he’d known Cas was going to die, he would have done things differently, he would have at least _tried._ And then Cas would come back, and Dean would still do nothing, still say nothing, because Cas was back and Dean wasn’t going to take a gamble that might make him lose Cas again, that might push him away. And now, not taking that gamble might have been the thing that ultimately lead to him losing Cas.

He felt a surge of fury, with himself, with Chuck, with Billy, the Empty, even with Castiel. Finally, he knew that he’d had a chance at something good, and it was too late. If Dean had another chance, he wouldn’t fucking waste it again, he wouldn’t be that pathetic, scared child again. Who was he afraid of judging him? Both of this parents were gone, the few friends he had were from a different world and hardly even knew him, Jody and the girls wouldn’t care, the rest of the world either thought he was dead or a murderer or were scared shitless of him, and Sam—fuck, Sam was a damn adult, he could deal with it.

He brought his fists away from his eyes. His head throbbed, and his back cracked as he raised his head and stared out at the decimated doorway that Billy had walked through.

Dean picked up his phone and stood.

Cas always came back.

It was like this realization was enough to seal away all the anxiety and horror and pain. A wave of calm, focused determination replaced them.

Cas always came back, and when he did, Dean wouldn’t fuck it up again. He would get him back, and then he’d tell him everything that he’d been too scared to say before.

This was the new mission. Killing Chuck felt small in its magnitude next to this. He could handle that, he had to, it was just one more roadblock fucking up his happiness, Cas’ happiness, and when Chuck was gone and Cas was back and the Empty had fucked off for good, nothing could stop him from getting that happiness for the both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that Dean needed to have some kind of steely determination to get through the next bit, both because in the preview for 15x19 he seems relatively stable, and because I think he needs to be that way to take care of things with Chuck before he can really focus on getting Cas back. And it makes sense to me that at this point, he might feel like Cas has to come back, so anything else isn't an option in his mind. Next chapter will be up asap!


	2. Chapter 2

Dean dialed Sam as he walked through the decimated doorway. Sam answered on the first ring.

“Dean?” Sam said urgently, “I’ve been calling for an hour, what the hell happened to you?”

“It’s ah…” Dean cleared his throat. “I fucked up, I shouldn’t have gone after Billy. It wasn’t her, all the people—it’s Chuck.”

Sam swore under his breath. Dean could hear the hum of an engine in the background.

“Where are you? Do you know what’s happening? Everyone’s gone, Dean. I got everyone I could together, it seemed safe, and then they disappeared, one by one. They’re _gone_. And it’s not just them, it’s _everyone_.”

Dean could hear the panic in Sam’s voice, but he found himself impervious to the feeling. The worst had already happened, this was just one more thing to fix.

“Is Jack okay?” Dean asked. He thought of Cas, how that would be his first concern. Jack needed to be Dean’s priority now too. He wasn’t going to let Cas down, to let him come home to find that Dean hadn’t taken care of the kid.

“Jack’s fine Dean, are you listening?”

Dean entered the library and pulled out a chair at one of the tables.

“I’m listening.”

“What happened? What happened with Billy? Are you guys alright?”

“We…” Dean started. Then he stopped. No, they weren’t alright, there wasn’t even a “we” here to _be_ alright. A wave of nausea threatened to overtake him. He pushed it back.

“No, we’re not alright. The Empty took Cas, he made some kind of deal to save Jack way back when, and he called the Empty to collect. We were trapped, it took Billy too.”

He felt mechanical saying it. He couldn’t let himself think about the implications of what he was saying. _He called the Empty…_ The statement didn’t even begin to address what that had really meant.

“Cas is dead?” The horror in Sam’s voice reverberated though the phone as Dean leaned his elbows on the table and balled his free hand against his forehead, willing Sam to shut up.

“He was taken.” The words sounded hollow, unconvincing.

“Dean…” Sam paused for a moment. “Are you at the bunker?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t go anywhere, we’re a few hours out. Just stay there, okay, we’re coming to you.”

“Yupp,” Dean said, and hung up.

His jaw hurt from keeping it clenched for so long. He didn’t release it.

+

While he waited, Dean thought about their next moves. They had basically nothing going for them anymore; it was Sam, Jack, and Dean against an omnipotent being juiced up by another omnipotent being inside him. They’d missed their shot with Jack as far as Dean could tell. There were no big players for them to turn to. Death, the Empty, and the Darkness, all gone. There were a few angels left, though Dean doubted they’d turn against God. Killing God did sound like something Rowena and her crew might be interested in, but they’d been down that road before, when Crowley tried to help them take out Amara, and it had hardly slowed her down.

There was a sudden rustle of wings behind him.

Dean whipped around, his heart in his throat. He was fully ready to launch himself at Cas, to cry in relief, to beg him never to leave again—

But it wasn’t Castiel.

Dean found himself face to face with his half-brother.

“Adam?” Dean asked. Even as his heart sunk, he thought that this seemed too easy. Just when Dean needed an ally, the Archangel Michael had just ridden in on his brother.

But the figure before him felt different. That was Adam’s face, everything was exactly the same, but the look that he gave Dean felt familiar for an entirely different reason.

Dean knew what he was about to hear before it was said.

“Adam’s gone, Dean,” Michael said. His voice sounded hollow. It matched Dean’s.

Dean turned back to the table. “Looks like your dad’s on quite the cleaning spree.” He picked up the chair that he had knocked over a moment before. He sat down and gestured for Michael to do the same, turning again to face him.

“Are they dead?” Dean asked. “The souls of all the people Chuck’s vanished, are they in heaven?”

“No,” Michael replied slowly. “They’re just… gone. Out of sight, or out of range, not anywhere I can get to. Just gone.”

Dean wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

“Look, we don’t have a snowballs chance right now, we don’t have anyone left on the bench. Cutting to the chase, are you here to help?”

Michael looked at Dean appraisingly. He was silent for a few moments before he began to speak.

“My father always had a plan. He wanted this world to be one of meticulous perfection, and perfect chaos. That’s what humans were. Your design is flawed, but he gave you what you needed to achieve more than any other species. Perfect in your imperfections.” Michael paused, his brow furrowed. “I’ve always followed orders. We aren’t like humans at all, we’re not made for free will. It’s not innate to us.”

Dean thought of what Chuck had said, about this Cas, _his_ Cas, refusing to follow the script. He swallowed, and tasted ash.

“I did was I was meant to, I followed my father’s plan. I was meant to bring absolute peace to earth, and I knew that when that happened, the chaos would end, and only perfection would remain.”

 _I mean it Dean, what would you rather have: Peace, or freedom?_ It might as well have been a thousand years ago now.

“I didn’t understand then what I do now. I loved our father’s creation because I was meant to, but I didn’t truly understand anything about it. Knowing Adam, seeing what my father has done… I’ve been a puppet. His script would have me kill my own brother, destroy the thing that my father said we were meant to love.” A look of painful wistfulness crossed Michael’s face. He looked almost human. “I see now that I’ve bowed out for too long. The price is too high. So yes, I am here to help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, no Cas yet--I want this to play out in a similar way to how the show works, and I love to be wrong, so I'm gonna take a shot at figuring out how to take out Chuck. Wish me luck!


	3. Chapter 3

When Sam hung up the phone, he could feel Jack’s eyes burning a hole into the side of his skull.

“The Empty came for Cas.” Jack said.

It wasn’t a question, but Sam nodded. He steeled himself before glancing away from the road and towards the boy. Jack’s brows creased low over his eyes, where regret and barely contained despair swirled. His clear resemblance to Castiel made Sam look away quickly.

“Jack—” Sam began, though he didn’t really know how to continue.

“I’m sorry,” he finished lamely after another tense moment of silence.

Jack looked through the windshield again at the darkening sky, the fields flying past them.

“No. I’m sorry. This is on me, I’m the reason Castiel made the deal. This is… another thing I’ve taken from you, Sam. From Dean.”

Sam thought of Dean, alone in the Bunker, with nothing but his thoughts, a cabinet full of booze, and an unlimited supply of lethal weapons.

“Dean will be okay,” Sam lied. “We’ve all had to make hard choices Jack, and I know that if Cas could go back and change anything, he wouldn’t even consider it, not if it kept you safe. This was his choice, it’s not on you.”

When Sam chanced a glance over at Jack again, he looked much younger than he had a moment before. His eyes had filled with tears, and he looked hopelessly lost, just a child who had nowhere to go without his father to guide him.

“We’ll get him back,” Sam said softly, and immediately regretted it. Truthfully, how many times could lightning strike the same spot? Surely, they’d used up their “surprise Cas resurrection” chips by now. He wouldn’t have dared get Dean’s hopes up. It probably wasn’t helpful to raise Jack’s, either.

Jack didn’t look reassured. If anything, he seemed more despondent.

“I didn’t even think to worry about it, not now. The Empty—It said it would only come for Cas when he allowed himself to be happy.”

Sam didn’t know what to make of that. Happiness was hardly Cas’ strong suit. The only times he seemed to approach it were with Jack, or with Dean. He wasn’t necessarily surprised that Cas was with Dean when he “allowed himself to be happy,” whatever that meant.

“It’ll be okay,” Sam said, having nothing else to offer, and he pushed the gas pedal a little harder.

+

By the time Sam and Jack walked through the bunker door, Dean and Michael had come up with the closest thing they’d had to a plan since Jack went atomic.

Michael suspected that Chuck was hunkered down in Detroit. The thought of meeting Chuck there filled Dean with an impotent rage, as he thought of how Chuck had mapped out their lives, constructed a plot that looped back on itself endlessly, how he and Sam were mice in Chuck’s maze, still.

The plan was simple. They would walk straight into the meat grinder, and with Jack and Michael’s powers combined, they would essentially hoist Chuck by his own petard. Michael hadn’t come empty handed; from the center of the Garden, Michael had retrieved what he called the Sword of God. It didn’t look like a sword at all—it was, as far as Dean could tell, a small ball made of brown clay. Michael explained that within its crude casing, a power source strong enough to destroy any life, even God’s, existed.

“Think of this as the essence of creation. It’s the force that created the Light, and the Darkness, and it can undo both. It’s volatile, but if I can direct this energy towards my father, he will have no defense.”

Internally, Dean thought it seemed too good to be true, but with no other options, he didn’t bother to voice this.

Sam and Jack arrived at the bunker, and Dean had another reason to be grateful for Michael’s sudden appearance; it left little room to talk about what had happened.

As they loaded up the car, Sam was tempted to try and gauge Dean’s headspace, but he tempered the impulse to try and engage his big brother in a heartfelt conversation. Dean was processing this in the same way Sam was processing what had happened to Eileen; by focusing on the upcoming mission.

Jack approached the Impala looking both determined and petrified. He’d been eyeing Dean since they arrived but hadn’t had a chance to say anything as they got caught up on Michael’s plan.

Jack squared his shoulders and tried to meet Dean’s eyes. When he spoke, he sounded as if he’d practiced what he wanted to say.

“Dean, this is my fault. I know I’ve already cost you too much, and I want you to know that all I want is to help with Chuck, and then I’ll never bother you again,” he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry Dean, I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll do everything to help now, and I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

Dean fixed Jack with an incomprehensible look, before going back to organizing the Impala’s trunk.

“I don’t blame you Jack, we’ve all made calls like the one Cas made. And this ain’t our first rodeo, you helped get him out of the Empty once, we can try again.”

Jack looked even more pained at this. “That’s the thing… I don’t think I can. I tried to summon up the power to… shake the Empty like I did before, but it won’t work. I can’t do it, _I’m_ not working.”

For a moment Sam thought that this news might break Dean, whose façade seemed to slip momentarily, revealing the anguish behind his eyes. And then it was gone, and Dean slammed the trunk shut.

“Then we’ll find another way.”


	4. Chapter 4

They drove through the night, largely in silence. Michael agreed to travel with them to minimize the chance of being intersected by Chuck, and crammed in the backseat beside his nephew, he looked distinctly human. It was a difficult journey, and Dean grimaced at the thought of what all the off-roading was doing to Baby’s alignment as he veered slightly into a ditch to get around a blockade of abandoned cars for the twentieth time that night. When Sam suggested that they make a stop at a motel just after they’d passed Chicago, Dean thought about objecting, but somehow, it seemed that urgency didn’t really matter when you’re the only people on earth.

Dean grabbed the keys to a first-floor room and a spare cot from the dingy motel office, vaguely thinking that they could have stayed somewhere more luxurious for once. Somehow, that didn’t seem right.

He set up the cot for Jack, though he doubted the kid would sleep. If he did get tired, Dean didn’t want him wondering off to another room.

“I’ll keep watch,” Michael told them as he settled at the table by the window. Dean thought of the times that Cas had told him that he’d “watch over” him, of how personal, how intimate it always felt, how much it would make his insides squirm with some unknowable feeling. This felt nothing like that.

Jack sat by Michael, both outlined by the daylight seeping through the closed curtains, while Sam crashed on the bed farthest from the door, boots and jacket still on. They figured an unexpected wakeup could be on the menu.

Michael was talking quietly to Jack when Dean settled onto the bed nearest them, keeping his back to them as he lay. Dean heard the words “my brother” from Michael, and was glad Sam was asleep. The last thing he needed right now was more Lucifer-induced trauma.

Against his will, Dean tuned into the conversation when he heard Cas’ name.

“…was a father to me in way’s that Lucifer never could have been, it just wasn’t in him. And I’m okay with that now, because it’s not where you come from that matters, it’s who you become… your choices. That’s what Cas taught me.”

“Castiel was unusual for an angel, unique even,” Michael mused. “In the abstract, angels “love”, we love our creator and our brothers and sisters and our father’s creation, but we don’t have much practice in applying it outside of the abstract. Castiel chose to love. It isn’t the easy choice.”

Dean could feel Michael’s eyes boring into the back of his head as he spoke. Dean clutched his right hand to the bloody print on his left shoulder, long since dried to a dark brown. He hadn’t even considered changing at the bunker before leaving and couldn’t quite bring himself to shrug out of it now, either. No one had ventured to mention it.

He wondered if Michael knew. Dean thought back to all the comments that he’d heard over the years, from angels, demons, friends, enemies, all commenting on Dean and Cas’ relationship, snidely or otherwise. Maybe it had been obvious to everyone but Dean. The thought caused him to grit his teeth together roughly to keep from screaming, or possibly sobbing.

He blocked out the noise, a skill honed from years of sleeping whenever and wherever the opportunity arose, and eventually fell into a restless sleep.

+

On the last leg of the drive, they laid out their plan with more detail. Michael felt confident that he’d be able to find Chuck once they got to Detroit. They knew that they were unlikely to surprise him; even though he may have thought Jack was dead, they weren’t naïve enough to think that he wouldn’t know by know that he was back, and he’d probably picked up on the fact that Michael had joined them too. The only thing he might not know was the state of Jack’s powers. Jack told them about how he’d been unable to vanish a clump of weeds, instead burning it to a crisp, snuffing out its life. They might get a few moments of advantage if Chuck thought that Jack posed more of a threat than he did, which could allow Michael the time he needed to direct the Sword at him.

As they weaved their way through the back streets of Detroit, Michael directed them towards the center of the city, following what he dubbed a “power beacon.” Night had fallen, and the eerie silence brought on by the complete lack of human life was exacerbated by the city landscape.

“This force… it feels less familiar than I expected,” Michael confessed as the neared their destination. “It could be Him, or it could be something else entirely.”

“Can you sense anything, Jack?” Sam asked, turning in his seat to face him.

Jack didn’t answer for a moment. “I have no idea what we’re walking into,” he admitted.

That sounded about right, Dean mused darkly. A potential mystery monster to add to the list.

They pulled up to an old Church, illuminated in the moonlight and casting long shadows that stretched to meet them as they stepped out of the car.

“It’s in there?” Sam asked, looking to Michael. He nodded and placed the clay ball into his pocket.

As Sam, Dean, and Jack headed towards the front steps, Michael vanished around the corner of the Church, planning to lay low and make his own entrance on the off chance that Chuck didn’t know he was with them.

The heavy Church door creaked as they entered the dark space of the sanctuary.

It looked completely empty, but the hairs of Dean’s neck raised as if they were being watched.

“We’re not alone,” Sam murmured, eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of Chuck.

It wasn’t particularly like Chuck to be sneaky, to hide in shadows.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the shadows near the altar seemed to shift, and Dean’s grip on the angel blade at his side tightened.

They heard the soft rasp of a match being struck, and a large candle on the altar flickered to life.

Behind the candle, a gaunt, almost skeletal face peered through the flame at them. Dean felt his breath hitch in his throat. His feet were glued to the floor.

“It’s time that we spoke,” said Death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would looovvee for Julian Richings to return! Lisa Berry is obviously so fabulous as Death, but I cannot get over the gravitas that Julian brought to the role. 
> 
> Feel free to leave comments about anything by the way, even if you just want to rant about the last episode or talk about spn in general--it doesn't need to be about this fic at all! I don't really use social media much and never get to talk about supernatural irl, so this is super fun for me to feel like I'm interacting with other people who are as into this mess as much as I am <3
> 
> I think I'm going to wrap this up with 3 more chapters--expect things with Chuck to be resolved shortly, and then we can get to the good stuff!


	5. Chapter 5

Death took a seat on the ornate chair to the left of the altar, leaving Dean, Sam, and Jack to cautiously approach as he stayed silent.

“How are you—” Dean began, keeping his grip tight on his blade. “We—I…”

“You… killed me?” Death fixed Dean with a penetrating gaze.

“I’m sorry to deflate that infamous ego, Dean, but if there was one person that I would not foolheartedly hand my scythe over to, it would be _you_.”

“But Billie—”

“Had the unfortunate luck to take over some of my duties while I was away.”

“How is this possible?” Sam asked.

Death turned his gaze to Sam, who shifted uncomfortably.

“You might recall that there are thousands of ways that your stories could have gone. There was not one in which Sam Winchester died at the hands of his brother wielding the weapon of Death. There were certainly many where the Darkness killed you both.

“You’ve been tragically predictable for quite some time; I had little doubt that you two would unleash the Darkness on this world, and that God would return as well. You can imagine my distaste at the thought of playing referee between the two. And I am not impervious to their powers. Had they known where to find me, they might have successfully bound me to their will. If this had happened, we might have faced the ends of all life on the planet… Although perhaps I needn’t have worried, as the two of you have hastened that conclusion regardless.”

Dean wasn’t sure that that was completely fair, but he was feeling pretty lucky to still be alive in the face of the cosmic being he had tried to kill, so he didn’t challenge him.

“So that’s why your back? You’re here to take out Chuck?” Dean asked.

“No.”

Dean blinked. “I thought you told me that you could reap God.”

“Yes, and I will. It is not the job of a reaper to deliver a being to death, only to collect.”

“Well we’re up the creek right now, so if you have any advice.”

Death looked over Dean’s shoulder to the pews. “Michael, perhaps its timed you joined us.”

Michael appeared behind them.

“I understand that you have collected a weapon,” Death continued. “I can’t tell you whether it will work, but should you manage to sufficiently injure Him, I will be able to step in and ensure that there is no chance of a recovery. His essence, and that of his sister, will be scattered into the universe, and balance will be restored.”

“Will it bring everyone back?” Sam asked.

Death nodded shortly. “Everyone that God blipped out of existence will return.”

Dean heard Sam’s sharp exhale but kept his eyes fixed on Death.

“Is he here? In Detroit?”

Death inclined his head once more. “Near enough. I will take you to him. He does not know that the Archangel Michael is with you, which may give you an advantage. Do not miss this opportunity, there will not be another.”

“But what if the weapon doesn’t work?” Jack asked, speaking up for the first time.

Death turned to regard Jack with a perceptive gaze. “You’re a very curious being. You’ve gone through a tremendous change recently. It’s altered your capabilities substantially.”

Jack looked confused. “My powers aren’t working at all anymore.”

“Aren’t they? Change can be useful,” Death offered cryptically.

Jack opened his mouth to ask another question, but Death cut him off.

“This is the last thread that needs tying off, I encourage you to not pull any more loose.” He looked at Dean when he said this, and then at Sam.

“Good luck.”

+

A moment later, Sam, Dean, Jack, and Michael stood in the dilapidated lobby of what looked like an abandoned hospital. It was still dark, the early hours of the morning, and the silence felt heavy.

As Dean looked around, wondering if they’d have to search every room of this place to find Chuck, he noticed a large plaque on the wall by the reception area.

_Jackson County Sanitarium._

He felt his heart drop into his stomach. He knew where he would find Chuck, the hack just had to recycle all their greatest hits.

He looked to Michael, who nodded and vanished from sight. To the others, he gestured towards the front doors.

Ironically, while this apocalypse looked decidedly different from the one that he had witnessed in that alternate 2014, abandoned cars still littered the streets, and they were the only souls in sight. But the buildings surrounding them weren’t smoldering, and it didn’t resemble the war zone that it had before—Small victories, Dean thought.

Cautiously, they rounded the corner to the back of the hospital, to the garden that Dean knew would be there, where Chuck would be waiting—

Even though he’d been expecting this, he felt his brain short-circuit when he saw Chuck, dressed head to toe in a white suit, facing away from them.

This was nothing but a game to him. Dean had known that for a while, but seeing him there, where Sam had stood—no, not Sam; Lucifer, wearing Sam’s face, a warning, a threat of what would happen if he didn’t follow the rules. He felt the same boiling loathing that he had felt when he’d stood there before, when he’d looked into Lucifer’s smug face.

 _I win… so, I win_.

They wouldn’t give Chuck the ending he wanted, so the fucker manufactured it as near as he could. But if there was one thing Dean knew, it was that Chuck wouldn’t be winning here.

Chuck turned, fiddling with a rose between his fingers.

“Glad you could make it. Most of you, anyway.”

Dean wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his rage kicked up a gear.

“So what’ll it be? You’ve lost the angel in your pocket, the kid’s looking useless, and last time I checked, Dean and Sam Winchester were just a couple of guys whose luck had run out. What’s up your sleeve now?”

The three of them came to a halt a few yards from Chuck, clutching their weapons and readying themselves for whatever blow Chuck was planning to throw at them.

“Yea, that’s kind of what I thought. How about you, Dean? Appreciate the homage?” Chuck held his arms wide, gesturing at the tranquil, moon drenched rose bushes around them. “You were always going to end up here! Got any witty repartee? I liked that speech you gave, “You’re the same brand of cockroach I’ve been squashing my whole life,” that whole bit. Pretty adaptable for this scenario. You got anything?”

Dean breathed in through his nose and unlocked his jaw just enough to push one word out.

“Nah,” he said, and as Chuck’s face darkened and he began to raise a hand towards them, they heard a sudden _crack_ and Michael appeared behind Chuck, the Sword’s clay coating breaking apart in his hand and a strange humming light beaming though his fingers, catching Chuck in their reach, and for a moment Dean thought it was over, that it had actually worked—

And then Chuck whipped around and covered Michael’s hand with his own, snuffing out as much of the light as possible, forcing Michael down on his knees before him.

Chuck’s hand was blistering where it met Michael’s, where small tendrils of light still beamed, but he kept his grip hard as he used his other hand to turn his son’s face towards him.

“Michael. You shouldn’t have come here. You were always a good soldier, but not much of a tactician. Goodbye, son.”

He let go of Michael's face, and Dean saw the silver gleam of a blade appear in the same hand before Chuck brought it down, straight through Michael’s chest.

+

Michael’s grace burst through the garden, and then he lay still, the faint outline of vast wings visible on the ground as the first sign of daylight teased the horizon.

Chuck didn’t let go of the burning ball in his palm. He held it tighter, crushing it until the light faded entirely before dropping the lifeless rock beside Michael’s body.

His arm was badly burned, with the hand that had held the Sword a shriveled black thing, dead, scorched. It reminded Jack of the plant in the silo, the one he had accidentally burnt.

“I think that enough of a prologue,” Chuck ground out through his teeth, “Sam, you first.”

He reached his undamaged hand towards Sam, who dropped to the ground, clutching his throat, eyes straining. Dean crouched beside him, holding his shoulders helplessly, but Jack turned to Chuck.

Jack drew from within himself every ounce of love he had for Sam, for Dean, for Cas, for every person who had helped him become who he was, and he directed it all at the being who was responsible for so much of their pain.

Chuck stumbled back as a wave of energy hit him, and then he burned. His other hand blistered, then his face, chest—he fell to his knees, just as his son had done moments before.

Sam had stopped gasping, but Jack didn’t turn. He kept pushing, dredging up everything he had until Chuck was a disfigured mass of coal that hit the ground and singed the grass around him.

A moment later, as they all watched the lifeless form with wide eyes, a sonic blast radiated outward from the garden, sweeping their hair back and stretching far beyond their eyeline.

Jack collapsed to the ground beside Sam and Dean, breathing deeply into the echoing silence while the sun crept over the hospital behind them.

“Holy shit,” Dean broke the silence.

Sam let out a startled huff that turned into incredulous laughter. “Holy shit,” he repeated.

God was dead, and the sun still rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a challenge! Hope you enjoyed :) now we can focus on getting that happy ending!


	6. Chapter 6

By the time they made it back to the Impala, the sun was overhead, and they were no longer the last people on earth. They were still in the garden when Adam sat up, disoriented but unharmed. Around the world, people dropped back into their lives approximately where they had left them two days before.

There would be a chaotic couple of weeks where the world put itself back together. Cars would need to be pulled from ditches, homes needed to be drained of water left running, more than a few kitchens would need remodeling after the stove was left unattended. Trains had derailed, planes crashed. It was a mess, to be honest. But everyone was alive, and would never understand how close they had been to extinction.

As they began the drive from Michigan to Kansas, Sam had his phone glued to his ear, talking to Jody, Garth, Bobby, Donna, anyone who called. Every couple of minutes he would get a new incoming call and quickly answer, only to slump slightly in his seat when it wasn’t the person he most wanted to hear from.

“If I hadn’t taken her cell phone, she’d have called by now,” Sam grumbled for the third time.

In the backseat, Jack had a small smile on his face as he watched the world go by outside his window. Beside him, Adam had dozed off. He’d looked lost when he’d realized Michael had gone. Dean felt for the guy—While his own time with alt-Michael riding shotgun had been hell, this Michael clearly meant a lot to Adam, and Dean knew what it felt like to lose the angel on your shoulder. He’d agreed to come to the bunker with them, at least until he got back on his feet.

Eventually, Eileen called, and Sam finally relaxed. She told him about the everyday messes she’d been helping to clean up; people reappearing in strange places, missing pets, and general mass confusion. Nothing apocalyptic, at least. Apparently the dominate theories that she’d heard were gas leak, and alien abductions. She planned to meet them at the bunker the next day.

Dean felt numb to it all as he drove. The high of destroying Chuck had faded quickly, and all that was left was an emptiness inside him. An echoing void where whatever semblance of contentment, at having his family alive and at least reachable, usually glowed. He hated that this felt like a conclusion, that it felt as if the world was waking up anew, because he was still stuck in that same place he’d been, on the floor of the dungeon, with part of him ripped away. He couldn’t let this be the end, because he still had a fucking huge job to do.

They drove straight through the day, arriving back at the bunker in the middle of the night. In the garage, Dean sat behind the wheel for a few moments after parking. Sam, Jack, and Adam collected bags from the trunk while Dean slowly lifted himself out of the driver’s seat and stood beside the car, looking at the door into the bunker. Sam looked over at Dean with a question on his tongue. “In a minute,” Dean answered before he could ask.

And then he was alone, the thud of the door ringing loudly in the silence.

He thought about going into the bunker, with no apocalypse to distract him, seeing the empty chair in the library that Cas favoured on those long nights of research while the rest of them slept. He thought of going into the kitchen and remembering the way that Cas would sometimes be standing there, carefully preparing a cup of coffee for Dean when he wandered in on slow mornings. Of Cas politely taking a few bites of the pancakes Dean put in front of him at the kitchen table. Of Cas standing at his bedroom door with two beers in his hands, waiting to be invited in.

And he thought of the other times. Cas, comfortable and happy and human, with the smile fading from his face as Dean told him he couldn’t stay. Cas telling him that he’d be there long after everyone else was gone, before Dean buried an angel blade beside his head and told him that next time, he wouldn’t miss. Cas trying to open up to Dean, to tell him what was wrong, and Dean pushing, pushing, _pushing_ until Cas walked out the door.

The fact is that Cas had always given Dean one hundred percent, and Dean had given Cas nothing, or worse than nothing, over and over and over. And still, _still_ , Cas had loved him, had believed him to be better than he was. Tears welled up in his eyes, and Dean roughly rubbed at them with the heels of his palms.

If Cas had loved him _then_ , had felt happy just by telling Dean, maybe Dean actually had a shot at making him happy all the time. If there was one person who deserved it, it was Cas.

And Dean didn’t feel so angry anymore. In fact, for the first time in forever, things felt clear, unmuddled. Maybe he could stay like that, be easy for once. Stop misleading the person he couldn’t live without into thinking he didn’t love him back because Dean had always had to make everything so goddamn complicated. Maybe he could be the person Cas believed he was, maybe he could prove him right for a change.

+

Things almost felt normal in the bunker that night. Sam had shown Adam to a spare room, and Jack went to the kitchen to make peanut butter sandwiches, which he laid on the library table with a proud grin. Dean looked up from the lore book he was skimming and gave a half smile back.

“Thanks, Jack.” He reached for one and took a bite, chewing mechanically and not tasting a thing. Maybe this was how Cas felt about food.

Jack sat in silence beside him for a moment, seeming deep in thought. He seemed hesitant to break the silence.

“I didn’t think there was anything to worry about,” he began. “Nothing was supposed to happen unless Cas was happy, and, I mean, he never seemed that happy. He told me not to worry about it, that he didn’t think he’d ever really be truly happy, and it sounds terrible, but I just accepted that. I didn’t think it would just _happen_.”

Jack lapsed back into silence.

Dean breathed out heavily. He didn’t want to talk about this, but he knew that if there was anyone who was feeling this like he was, it was Jack.

“It didn’t just happen. He chose the moment. Billie was going to kill me, so he decided that he’d just…be happy, and then the Empty would come for them both, and I’d be safe. So that’s what he did.” Dean kept his eyes on the text in front of him while he spoke, seeing nothing.

“How do you just…become happy?” Jack asked. Dean got the impression he wasn’t just asking about Cas.

“Well, I guess Cas would say that it’s in just living your truth, in being honest about what you feel and not letting fear hold you back.” It was a bit of a cop out, but it didn’t seem like the time to get into the nitty gritty of how Jack’s dead father was in love with his other, emotionally unavailable basket case of a father.

Jack thought about that for a moment. “I feel…sad. But also relieved. And tired. And thankful. I have a family I love, and the world isn’t ending. And even the ones who aren’t here, I know I loved them, and they loved me. I think.” Jack traced the wood grain of the table, eyes downcast. “I’m not sure it worked, I don’t feel much different.”

Dean let a sad smile cross his face. This boy, this child really, all he wanted was to be loved, and most of what he’d faced in his three short years was pain.

“Jack, I… They did love you. You meant the world to Cas. He was proud of you. He never doubted you, not once. Man if he were here right now, he’d be singing your name from the rooftops, “My son saved the world!”” Dean’s eyes stung. Jack’s cheek lifted in a self-conscious smile.

Dean took a deep breath and continued. “And you know…Mom loved you too. A lot.”

Jack’s finger stilled on the wood.

“Jack, I know I’ve put a lot on you, but I know you didn’t mean to do it, and I know you’d have done anything to fix it, and I want you to know…” Dean caught Jack’s eye. He looked scared but hopeful, as if Dean held the key to his salvation. “I want you to know that I forgive you. And that I love you. I know I’m not Cas, but I’m here for you, I’m on your side, kid.”

Jack’s eyes watered but his smile looked beatific. “Thanks Dean.”

Dean rose from his seat and Jack followed suit, clearly waiting for a signal that he could catch Dean in a hug. Jack buried his face in Dean’s chest, and Dean awkwardly patted his head. “I’ll try to make you proud, too,” Jack mumbled.

“You already do, kid.”

Jack pulled away, beaming up at Dean. “I’ll find some more books,” he said brightly, as if they were hosting a book club and not researching how to save their family member from a cosmic void.

+

The next morning, Dean woke up with his face stuck to the pages of the book he’d fallen asleep reading.

Jack was babbling excitedly beside him. “Dean, wake up! I’ve found something, wake up!”

Dean was alert immediately, “What’d you find, what is it?”

Jack slid an ancient tome towards him. “This. This says that the Empty isn’t exactly a place you go to, even less than Heaven or Hell. It’s more like the Veil. Basically, it’s everywhere, just on a different dimensional field. We can’t perceive it, and it can’t perceive us. But, if we can change our perception, we’re basically already there.”

“But we can’t access the Veil unless we’re dead,” Sam pointed out. Dean hadn’t even noticed him, standing on the other side of Jack and craning overhead to read the text himself.

“True, but being dead wouldn’t help you get to the Empty anyway, it’s not for human souls. A dead human would be ejected immediately. What I think you _can_ do is project yourself into it. You wouldn’t be fully there exactly, so it wouldn’t break the metaphysical boundaries of the plane.”

“Like dreamwalking?” Dean asked.

“Kinda, only without the sleeping and the whole out of body thing.”

“How do we do it?” Dean stood, ready to go.

“It takes a bit of preparation; we need a space above ground first of all, and ideally a place where there’s plenty of room. There’s a _lot_ of ruin work involved. We need some ingredients, pretty basic stuff…But Dean,” Jack looked stricken. “All this will do is get you there. It won’t help you find Cas, it won’t wake him up, and it won’t bring him back here.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Dean said gruffly. His body was humming with energy. Small details weren’t going to slow him down.

“Let’s get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting our boy!!!!
> 
> I'm buzzing for tonight's episode btw, seems absolutely crazy that this is the penultimate episode.


	7. Chapter 7

If there’s one thing rural Kansas had, it’s plenty of open space. Not far from the bunker, an abandoned property with over a hundred acres of field sat neglected and overgrown. They’d checked it out when they first started living nearby, going through the old farmhouse and the dilapidated barn with EMT readers and coming up clear.

They set up shop in the barn, covering it from bottom to top with sigils and ruins transcribed from Jack’s book. It didn’t escape Dean’s notice that it was in a place just like this that he first met Cas, when he greeted him with a knife to the chest. He’d try to make a better impression this time.

The day wore on as they worked. Sam had texted Eileen to meet them, and when she showed up a short time later (with a few bags of fast food, bless her), Sam nearly skipped to greet her, her small frame disappearing in his embrace.

Dean watched them, feeling a rush of pride for Sam. He’d never seen his brother so demonstrative, so open and casual with his affection. Not since that night at Stanford, ages ago, when he had no idea that he was saying goodbye to Jess for the last time. It had taken a hell of a lot to get him here, but Sam was getting his happy ending.

Eileen didn’t waste time offering Dean any pitying looks or condolences, and Dean loved her for it. She just gave him a smile, patted his arm, and picked up a paintbrush.

+

The sun was beginning to set as Sam and Dean set the ingredients out on a rough table near the center of the barn. Jack and Eileen had headed back home, on standby with the bunker’s full supply of information and objects at their disposal should something go wrong.

When it was time to cast the spell, Sam finally asked what had been on his mind for the last few days.

“What happened with Cas?”

Dean bit his lip and didn’t answer at first, pretending to be busy reading over the incantation.

“You’ve been way off since—since that day, and not like you usually are when this kind of thing happens. Something’s different.”

When Dean still didn’t reply, Sam prompted him one more time, “What happened when the Empty came? Why did it come then?”

Dean hesitated for another moment, looked at Sam’s open, sympathetic face, and back down again.

“He, uh…” Dean started, trying to find a way to continue. Before, he would have just deflected, denied anything incriminating, moved past this moment with a joke. But he’d told himself that there wasn’t going to be anymore running from this, and this was the first real test.

“He told me that he loved me, and that he thought he could never have me, so just saying it was enough. That was his version of happiness, the poor bastard. Just telling me that.”

Sam was silent for a few moments, and when Dean chanced a glance up at him, he saw that his brother wasn’t looking at him at all, just staring into the middle distance.

“Hmm,” Sam hummed.

Dean huffed out something between a groan and a sharp laugh. “Hmm? Really? That’s all you’ve got?”

Sam snapped out of his reverie.

“Sorry. I mean, it makes sense. He obviously had a sort of… special attachment to you, I mean he’s pretty much lived his life around you for years.”

Dean bites back a surge of guilt. No time for that now.

“So you didn’t know?”

Sam frowns slightly, “Well, not really, I guess. Years ago, back before Amara, I questioned it more. Just the way he is with you, _about_ you. But as far as I knew, nothing ever happened there, so I guess I just kind of chalked it up to a weird angel thing. Just one of those strange _Cas_ things, you know?”

Dean snorted. “Yea, I know what you mean.”

Sam fiddled with a sprig of nightshade for a moment before asking the next question.

“What did you say?” He asked it casually, as if trying not to spook a skittish animal.

“I didn’t,” Dean replied, keeping his voice steady. “There wasn’t time, or I don’t know, I just couldn’t. It happened fast, he was there, and then he was gone.”

Sam kept his gaze locked on his brother’s face, and decided to cut the bullshit.

“If this works, will you tell him?”

Despite his best efforts, Dean froze up. Just for a moment, just temporarily. _What are you so afraid of,_ he asked himself as he willed his heart rate to return to normal, to breathe.

So Sam knew, or had an idea at least. Okay, that was okay. Nothing terrible had happened. The sky hadn’t fallen. Sam was still there, right beside him. It was okay.

“You knew?” Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. “You’re my brother, I know you better than anyone. You put on this bullshit bravado thing with him, when you’re not bickering like an old married couple. And you obviously _care_ , and, I mean, you stare a _lot_ , dude—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Dean cut him off, trying desperately to get his blushing under control. This was not the time to act like a schoolgirl talking about her crush.

Sam smiled. “I love you, man,” he said, pulling Dean into a one armed hug.

“Yea yea, I love you too, bitch,” Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder as Sam let out a short laugh.

“Jerk,” he murmured, returning his attention to the table of ingredients.

Dean smiled too. That wasn’t even that bad—It had actually been kinda nice to talk about it, finally.

“Okay, so let’s light this sucker.”

+

Dean entered the strange in-between world alone. He could still see the outline of the barn, only just, and it hurt his eyes to look too hard at it. His vision wanted to focus on the foggy darkness surrounding him instead. It got darker as he walked, out of the barn, into the field, and he felt lighter, less corporeal, until he could hardly tell that he was walking on solid ground at all. The noise of the real world was muffled. It was a bit like being in between wakefulness and sleep, when you’re still dreaming but the real world is creeping in.

The spell would only give him a short amount of time; Sam thought it might be an hour, but the translation was unclear. He wouldn’t have time to wade through a world’s worth of murkiness.

He focused his mind on Cas and began to call to him.

“Cas?” The sound didn’t reverberate, swallowed whole by the darkness.

“Cas, I’m looking for you, buddy, I’m here. I know you think you’re in this place for the long haul, but I need you to come home.”

He continued walking, hoping he wasn’t going in circles, unsure if it would matter even if he was.

“You didn’t give me a chance to say much there, you know? You got some timing, Cas. I’ve gotta find you now, because I’ve got something to tell you, and neither of us are gonna die after. Okay?”

There was no change, just more foggy grey nothingness.

He could feel panic welling up inside of him, and pushed it down. This was about _Cas_ , he couldn’t let himself get distracted, this had to work. He kept walking.

“There’s a lot of things I could tell you Cas,” Dean can hear some of that panic creeping into his voice. How long had it been? Twenty minutes? Thirty? His watch hadn’t ticked since he entered this place.

“What I want to tell you, Cas, at least one of the things I want to tell you, is that you’re wrong. But also, I want to tell you that if you think I don’t see myself clearly, you’re as guilty as me. You know you’re probably the most big-hearted person I’ve ever met, and most people have had a lot longer to practice. You’re brave, you’ve always been there for me, and you’re _good_. You’re so good that you can even see the good in me.”

Something told him he was on the right track, to keep walking straight.

“I guess I never told you enough how much I need you. I tried, but I think I used the wrong words. It’s just you, man, not the things you do for us, though I owe you about a hundred more _thank yous_ than I’ve given you. I just want you around, I just want you with me, no matter what.”

It had always been easier to tell Cas how he was felt when he couldn’t see him, when he could pretend that he might not be listening. This time, he hoped more than anything that Cas could hear him.

“If you wanna raise bees and go vegan, that’s cool, I’ll be right there with you. If you wanna live on the road, never settling anywhere, hunting every day, that’s cool too. I want to be where you are,” Dean looked around desperately. “But Cas, it can’t be _here_.”

The familiar feeling of longing strained beneath his ribs, a physical ache in his chest.

And suddenly, he was there. About a hundred feet away, a pile of tan trench coat struggling to rise from the ground.

“Cas!” Dean yelled, and he sprinted, watching Cas’ face turn towards him. _Awake._ Dean didn’t know how that worked, but couldn’t care less. He reached Cas and bent down, holding his arm and helping him to his feet.

“Cas,” Dean breathed out, pulling the angel into a hug. Dean wasn’t quite solid on this plane, so it was a strange experience, but he ignored that and held on as tightly as he could.

“Dean?” Cas asked, looking dazed. “Is this—how are you here? _Are_ you here?” he asked, getting his bearings enough to pull back slightly and take in Dean’s translucent form.

“Kind of, long story. We gotta get you out of here, any ideas?”

Cas looked around. “The only time anyone gets out of here is if the Empty throws them out. It’s sleeping now…how is It sleeping?” Cas suddenly turned back to Dean, eyes wide. “Chuck? Did you do it?”

Dead nodded, grinning broadly, feeling a bit like he could fly as he stared at Cas’ face, his eye’s full of confused amazement.

“We’ve got one hell of a kid. And it seems like it’s pretty well put things back in order, so I guess that tucked the Empty in to bed, too.”

Cas smiled at him, but there was something sad about it. “That’s…incredible, Dean. But…”

“No, there’s no ‘but’,” Dean interrupted.

“But,” Cas continued. “There’s no way out. Dead angels can’t just walk out of the Empty, it’s not that easily reversible.”

“Cas, there has to be a way, this isn’t how this ends, okay? I didn’t even get a chance to tell you—”

“You don’t need to tell me anything—”

“Goddamnit Cas, let me talk okay, for once just be a selfish human like the rest of us and _listen—”_

Cas gasped, looking like he’d just received an electric shock.

Dean looked around, immediately on high alert, expecting so see that amorphous black goop creeping behind him.

“Christ, _what_ Cas?”

Cas looked in Dean’s eyes, his own bright with some emotion—not sadness though, almost…joy?

“I know a way,” Cas said, breathless. Dean almost thought Cas was about to lean in and kiss him, but no, he wasn’t reaching for Dean, he was…

He was reaching for the angel blade in his sleeve. He pulled it out and raised it slightly.

“Woah, woah Cas put down the knife, what’s the plan here?” Dean put his hands up instinctively and leaned back slightly.

Cas rolled his eyes, “Calm down, just stand back a bit,” he instructed.

But before Dean could, everything shifted. It felt like he was falling, the fog around him lifting away to reveal the open Kansas sky, twinkling with thousands of stars. He felt off balance, the world around him suddenly clear, the ground below him solid.

Cas was gone.

“Cas?” Deal yelled. He barn was behind him, close. He jogged to it, hoping, _hoping_ that if Cas was back, maybe he’d show up there.

He threw open the doors.

“Dean?” It was just Sam, standing as Dean looked around frantically.

“He’s not here?” he asked as the doors swung shut behind him.

“No, it’s just me, what happened? Did you find him?”

“I—Yea, I found him, but…I don’t know, I ran out of time.”

“Dean—”

“He said he could get out, he knew a way. We just—we just need to do it again maybe, get more supplies.”

Dean rushed over to the table where Sam stood, sorting through what ingredients they had, what they’d need more of. Sam helped, though he kept throwing Dean looks of concern.

“Well, maybe he’s making his way out. Look, we don’t know that it will work again.”

“Just call Eileen, ask her to grab some more stuff, I’ve gotta try again—"

They were interrupted by the loud creak of the door’s rusted hinges. Dean’s head shot up, and his breath caught in his throat.

For the second time in Dean’s life, Castiel walked through a rickety set of barn doors and changed everything.

Only this time there was no thunder, the panels on the roof didn’t shake, and the figure who walked in the door didn’t exude an impossible, untouchable power.

He looked like he’d just clawed himself out of death’s grip, but he was _there_ , alive, in one piece.

His head was slumped forward slightly, but he lifted it when Dean called his name, rushed forward to catch him as he wavered slightly where he stood.

“Hey, hey it’s okay, I’ve got you,” Dean whispered. Cas lifted his head and met Dean’s eyes.

He looked the same as always, eyes blue, hair artfully rumbled, same suit, tie, coat. Only he was bleeding—no, not bleeding, there was no wound. But he had blood on his collar.

“Cas what happened, why is there—”

He trailed off, looking again at the blood near his neck. He’d seen this before.

Cas smiled faintly, though it looked like even that took a lot out of him.

“If I’m not an angel, I can’t be in the Empty.”

“Cas…” He searched for something to say as tears continued to trail down his face, and when had he even started crying? He didn’t know how to react to this. Cas was back, but he’d sacrificed one more thing for Dean.

Cas slumped a little further in Dean’s arms.

“Okay Cas, we’re gonna get you home, you’re okay.” He gestured to Sam, who was hanging back slightly. He came around Cas’ other side and together they got him out of the barn and into the Impala.

Dean sat in the back with him as Sam drove the short trip.

Sam caught Dean’s eye in the rear-view mirror.

“This is a good thing, Dean. It’s a win. Just don’t start freaking out until you talk to him, okay?”

“Yea, yea I know Sammy,” Dean said quietly.

Cas was passed out but breathing steadily. His head rested on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean idly swept the hair from his forehead.

It was a win, of course it was. He had Cas back, and he was whole again. But what if Cas had only done this because Dean asked? What if Cas wasn’t whole anymore?

He let out a shaky exhale. For now, in this moment and until he was told to do otherwise, he’d be there for Cas, like Cas had always been there for him. He would give him a home, a family, anything he wanted, for as long as he wanted it. If Cas had to live a human life, Dean was going to make sure it was a damn good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I'll do at least one or two more chapters of this. I'm pretty happy with the way it's come together, considering I did basically no planning. I might do a post-series sortof sequel thing too, because post-series human!Cas is my all time favourite. Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

Cas slept straight through the night, while Dean cleaned out every cupboard in the kitchen, washed and ironed every piece of clothing in the laundry room, and paced every square inch of the bunker that didn’t contain a sleeping person. A couple times an hour, Dean would make some excuse to himself and quietly enter his bedroom (“It’s closest,” he’d mumbled when he and Sam brought Cas in) where Cas was laying flat on his back, his head tilted slightly to one side against the pillow. It reminded Dean of the way Cas used to cock his head to the side like a confused puppy trying to understand something incomprehensibly human. Dean would putter around for a moment, put something away or move something one inch on his desk, and then sit in the chair beside the bed and watch Cas breathe for a few minutes, reassuring himself that he was just sleeping.

There was no reason to feel this anxious, but Dean felt like he’d need a damn tranquilizer to calm down. It wasn’t really that a small part of him was scared Cas would never wake up (though that was definitely a factor), but also the anxious energy of just not knowing what was next, the excitement (and fear) of no longer being able to control or manage this thing the way he used to.

A couple of times throughout the night, he’d bumped into Jack, who went to check on Cas every hour or two. It was Jack who reassured him that Cas was okay, just resting. They still weren’t really sure how Jack’s powers worked now, or what he could and couldn’t do, but he seemed confident in that at least.

At around 5 am, Jack sat on the floor beside Dean in the library and picked up a book from the pile beside them. Dean had begun wiping down every shelf and every book in the room after his 17th time checking on Cas.

“Do you think things will be different, with Cas not being an angel anymore?” Jack asked, frowning slighting as he rubbed dust away from the book cover with more focus than was needed.

“Probably, in some ways,” Dean muttered. He just didn’t know yet whether they’d be good ways or bad ways. Hopefully he’d want to stick around more, but who knows? Maybe his unwavering loyalty was an angelic trait and he’d want to get out and expand his horizons.

Jack hummed in response. “I guess it’s just… Cas understood me. He could relate. I just hope that doesn’t change. I mean, you and Sam are great, it’s just…”

“It won’t change,” Dean said firmly. “He’s still Cas. He’s been an angel since the big bang or whatever, I’m sure he’s still got a few angelic tips up his sleeve for you. And anyway, I don’t think that what you and Cas have is ‘cause you share some weird angel DNA, you just… love each other and have shit in common. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you worried?” Jack asked curiously.

Dean licked his lips. “Nah,” he fibbed, shooting Jack a conspiratorial smile and a wink.

+

It was just after 6, and Dean was making pancakes, eggs, bacon, and hash browns. He figured Cas might not have had a chance to properly enjoy real breakfast foods his last go around as a human, and he wanted to start getting an idea of what Cas actually liked. The thought of getting to make breakfast for Cas every day made a smile slip past his defenses. He was feeling optimistic, but was trying not to get too ahead of himself. For all he knew, Cas could have changed his mind after Dean had just stood there like an idiot while he’d poured out his heart at Dean’s feet.

His plan had been to pile everything up on a tray and bring it to his room, hoping that the smells might entice Cas to wake up. But he hadn’t even used half the pancake batter when he heard shuffling feet enter the kitchen.

“Hey,” Dean said, louder than he’d intended. _Get it together, Winchester_.

Cas smiled at him, looking sleep rumpled and…really good, with his dress shirt half untucked, open collar exposing the tan skin of his collarbone. Dean had wanted to take off the stained shirt last night but was worried that with things the way they were, that might seem a little forward. Cas didn’t reply to him, just moved over to the coffee machine in the corner and flicked it on before carefully measuring out some grounds. “You’ve moved things,” Cas commented as he put the coffee grounds away.

Dean breathed out a silence sigh of relief that Cas had spoken. His mind had been turning over how to casually say “please say you still love me and are going to stay with me forever because I’m an idiot and I’m in love with you and I’m sorry.”

“Uh, yea,” he said instead. “World’s not ending anymore, figured there’s at least six years of spring cleaning to catch up on.” He watched as Cas pulled down two mugs and set them in front of the machine.

Cas hummed in agreement.

Dean licked his lips, and glanced back at the stove top, quickly flipping the pancake that had been quietly burning as he’d stared at Cas.

“You like your bacon crispy, or?”

Cas looked up and met his gaze, frowning slightly.

“I have no idea,” Cas replied. “How do you like it?”

For some reason, Dean thought it sounded rather suggestive.

“Uh, yea, crispy,” he replied, fighting against a rising blush that he knew he wouldn’t win against.

They lapsed into silence for a while. Dean was screaming at himself inside his mind. _Say something, holy shit._ He’d spend so many years adamantly not saying anything, that now that he was supposed to, it felt almost impossible to get the words out.

He turned off the burners.

“Wanna go for a drive?” he asked before he could talk himself out of it.

Breakfast was only half cooked, but Dean doubted he’d be able to eat a bite until they spoke anyway.

By now, Cas was stirring sugar into the two mugs filled with steaming coffee (two sugar, two milk for Cas, one sugar, black for Dean). He taped the spoon on the edge of Dean’s mug, and set it aside.

To Dean’s horror, Cas looked apprehensive. Dean started mentally scrambling for a way to back track. Oh my god, what if Cas hadn’t actually meant that he was _in_ love with Dean?

Before he could spiral much further, Cas nodded. “Yes, I’d like that,” he said, sounding impressively neutral.

Dean reached above Cas’ head and pulled down two travel mugs, and Cas quickly dumped the coffee into them.

+

Okay, this felt a little bit better. A little easier. How many times had they had serious conversations just like this? Dean in the driver’s seat, Cas sitting shotgun.

Dean popped in the first side of Houses of the Holy and they drove past town and out into the rural emptiness that stretched from Lebanon to the next county. As Dean wove further into the countryside, Cas relaxed, his body more natural and human looking than Dean was used to.

Cas was quietly mouthing along to the opening verse of Over the Hills and Far Away, and Dean felt a surge of affection shoot through him. It was enough to make his nose tingle in a way that signaled coming tears. It was one of the songs that he’d put on the tape he’d given Cas, years ago.

And just like that, all of the emotion of the last few days welled up and he was gasping in a shaky breath as tears began to fall.

Cas looked over, startled. “Dean, what’s wrong? Pull over, what is it?” Cas had reached over and gripped his shoulder. It wasn’t the same one that the handprint had been, but the touch was familiar enough for Dean to want to collapse into it.

He pulled off the dirt road and shut off the car.

He turned in his seat to face Cas, finding that Cas had already done the same, his left knee resting on the seat between them.

Cas began to drop his hand from Dean’s shoulder.

“Don’t,” Dean asked, almost begged.

Cas hesitated, his hand still loosely touching Dean’s jacket.

Dean looked into Cas’ eyes, eyes that were filled with something too complex for Dean to begin to name.

“How could you just leave me like that, man?”

It isn’t at all what Dean meant to say, but it was out and Dean found that it’s something he needed an answer to, even if it didn’t make sense.

Cas’ brow furrowed and he seemed to weigh his answer carefully for a moment.

“It’s not something I meant to do… I didn’t want to leave, and I didn’t mean to leave like _that_ , but there wasn’t another option. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to help with Chuck, I know I should have been, but—I’d make the same choice again, even if it means that things are awkward between us. It saved you, and that’s worth everything.”

Cas had just laid too much out at once, and none of it made any sense. “What—what are you _talking_ about?” Dean felt lightheaded. He scrubbed his face with his hands. Maybe he should have tried to sleep last night. He’d heard everything Cas had said but couldn’t figure out what any of it _meant_.

“I know that you’d do anything for your family, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for what you’ve done, but please don’t feel like you need to put any more on yourself because of me.” His grip on Dean’s shoulder was tight again. “I never would have told you; I didn’t do it thinking that you’d pull me out, that you’d have to face me after. And now, I’m human, or close enough, and I know you, and I know you’re going to feel even more responsible, but you _aren’t_. I’ve made my choices and I can live with them and I never want to make you feel uncomfortable, especially in your own home, so I can just—"

“Stop, Jesus Cas, slow down,” Dean just needed to go through this one thing at a time, this was a whole mess when Dean had been expecting some mild awkwardness at most.

Cas stopped talking immediately, pulling his lips between his teeth and looking suddenly childlike.

“Just, slow down a bit,” Dean repeated.

He slumped back against the seat, his head hitting the top of the bench.

“This is not how this went in my head,” Dean groaned, dragging a hand down his face once more.

He inhaled deeply, bracing himself for a whole lot of straight to the point emotional honesty, and god let it be enough to make this all make sense.

He turned back to Cas, raising one hand to gesture towards his deeply confused passenger.

“Cas, I love you. I don’t want you going anywhere. I don’t care that you weren’t here when we took out Chuck, frankly, I wouldn’t have wanted his sadistic ass near you anyway. You are _not_ a burden. I don’t care if you’re human, I wouldn’t care if I had to spoon feed you three meals a day.

“You’re not a burden,” Dean stressed, resisted the urge to scream it at him. “You never have been, and you never could be. You’re the best person, angel, _whatever_ that I’ve ever met. I don’t want to ever have to know what life is like without you, ever again. When you’re gone, I can’t cope. There is _nothing_ worth living for. I couldn’t tell you when this happened, but Cas, you’re my goddamn reason to live, so I need you to just calm the fuck down because nothing you said just now makes any fucking sense.”

Cas was still staring at Dean, brows creased, and as incomprehensible as ever.

Dean took a couple of deep breathes, closing his eyes and willing himself to take his own advice and calm the fuck down.

Cas still hadn’t said anything.

“Is any of this making sense to you?” Dean asked desperately, “You’re a goddamn cosmic-brained genius, Cas, this isn’t that complicated. _Please_ say something.”

Shit, is this how Cas had felt when Dean had just stood there like an idiot?

“I don’t know what you mean,” Cas said at last, and Dean felt like finding the nearest cliff and driving them off it.

This time, Dean reached over and braced both of Cas’ shoulders between his palms.

“Don’t leave. Stay with me. Stay with me because I’m in love with you and I can’t do this without you, and I’m really fucking hoping you feel the same way.”

Cas visibly swallowed, but now his eyes at least weren’t so impossible to read. He looked terrified, but no, not terrified, hopeful, maybe, _elated_? Maybe it was all three.

“Dean,” he began, but then closed his eyes, a frustrated frown appearing again.

“This… You’ve _always_ said that we’re family, that we’re like brothers. This doesn’t make sense, I don’t want you doing this to yourself just to make me happy.”

Dean had heard enough. If Cas was going to just refuse to listen, then Dean would stop talking.

He registered a look of surprise on Cas’ face as he cupped it with both hands, closed his eyes, and kissed him hard.

It featured exactly zero technique at first; Dean had just artlessly smashed their faces together in a desperate bid to get his point across, to show Cas that nope, they weren’t brothers, that’s not at all what this was. But after a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Cas softened under his hands and his lips turned pliable and soft. Dean eased off the pressure, sliding his fingers back through Cas’ hair, and the kiss became gentle, just a light caress of lips and stubble, the warm tickle of breath against each other’s skin.

Dean pulled back, but didn’t move his hands, not letting Cas look away from him—not that Cas looked like he had any desire to look away, his eyes wide and transfixed on Dean’s.

“I was full of shit before. At first, maybe I didn’t really get what I felt, but by the time shit with Amara was going down and I said that thing, that was just me trying to let you know how important you are without laying all my cards out, because I had no fucking clue that you felt that way. You were an angel, you were gone more often than you were here, and I was just some piece of shit hunter who never treated you like I should have. You _are_ my family, but you’re sure as shit not like a brother,” Dean leaned his forehead against Cas’.

“I’m sorry I was such an idiot, and I’m really fucking sorry that I didn’t say anything when you said it,” he clenched his jaw, eyes closed as he begged Cas to understand.

“You’re not an idiot,” Cas murmured, and Dean let out a bark of a laugh. He opened his eyes and could see Cas’ lips turned up in a smile.

“We might both be idiots,” Dean replied. “How did we spend a decade missing this?”

Cas huffed. “The world was always ending. It’s not as romantic as it seems in those superhero movies you like.”

“Maybe we just weren’t trying hard enough,” Dean grinned.

“I don’t know, it seemed pretty hard to me.”

Dean choked on his own tongue, pulling back enough to be able to take in Cas’ whole face.

Years ago, Dean hadn’t been able to tell when the angel was making a joke. It was a skill he’d mastered throughout the intervening apocalypses.

Cas’ kept his face entirely neutral, but the twinkle in his eyes was a dead give away.

“You’re gonna kill me,” Dean muttered, shaking his head in amazement. Cas had been dead yesterday, and today he was sitting in Dean’s car, making dick jokes.

“I hope not,” Cas watched him with a small smile playing across his face.

Dean leaned towards him once more and waited for Cas to meet him halfway this time. This kiss was barely more than a peck, but the fact that there had now been more than one made it feel like the most passionate, indulgent kiss he’d ever had.

Dean licked his lips and smiled helplessly as he pulled away.

“Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love our idiot boys <3 
> 
> I'm pretty sure there will be another chapter of this, but I'm also pumped to start writing some other stuff. I was not anticipating that i'd be writing supernatural fanfic in the year 2020, what a time to be alive :')
> 
> Feel free to comment on whatever you'd like! Did you guys like the ep last night?? Spoilers for 15.19 ** I did like the ending they chose for Chuck, but man I hate the thought of Jack not hanging out with the boys in the bunker anymore, or just getting to be a semi-normal kid. Cas is going to be devastated like wtf. I'm 100% percent confident that Cas will be back next ep, like no doubt in my mind, so even though it wasn't the strongest episode (no surprise), it did what it needed to do. I couldn't take the bronlies ending seriously, it honestly felt like a parody to me? Either way I'm excited for next week!
> 
> Thanks for reading!! xx


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the final chapter!! Enjoy the domestic fluff!

When they got back to the bunker, Jack was laying a plate of pancakes on the breakfast-laden library table. As Dean and Cas entered, he made a little celebratory whooping noise and immediately ran to Cas, burying his face into Cas’ chest. After a minute of what looked to Dean to be a painfully tight embrace, Jack disentangled himself and smiled broadly up at Cas.

“Did Dean tell you that I beat Chuck? I thought that my powers were all gone, but they were just different! Death told me and everything! The real Death, he was in hiding, and I got to meet him! And now that Chuck’s gone, all the people are back, did Dean tell you that all the people disappeared? And Michael helped us, but he’s gone now. But Adam’s here! And Eileen! And I finished making breakfast, I think I burned a few things but it’s mostly fine, I added sugar to the eggs,” Jack took a breath, still beaming. “I’m just so happy you’re back!”

Cas looked like he might tear up. He pulled Jack into another hug. “Thank you, Jack. I never doubted you for a second. I’m just glad you’re okay,” Cas held Jack’s face between his hands. “I’m never going to let you be put in a position like that again, I just want you to have a safe, happy life. You mean the world to me, Jack.” Cas looked so sincere that Dean’s heart ached. How often had he hurt Cas through how he treated Jack?

Jack bounced on his feet, full to the brim with happy energy. It was infectious, and Dean found himself overwhelmed with positivity for the first time in a long time. He had a chance now to make up for all of it. For once, everything was working out, and he had time to focus on the people who mattered.

He clapped both Jack and Cas on their shoulders. “Let’s eat! Anyone else up yet?” He didn’t really expect to see Sam and Eileen til later, Dean suspected they’d had a late night.

Jack shook his head, “Not yet, just us. Where did you guys go?”

“Just out for a drive, nothing like an early morning cruise,” Dean said as he piled bacon onto his plate. The eggs looked slightly off, but Dean took some anyway.

He wondered if they were supposed to pull Jack aside in some sort of reverse-divorce talk. _Jack, your fathers love each other very much and have decided to be together. But this doesn’t change anything about how we feel about you, champ._ The kid was smart, Dean was kinda hoping he’d just figure it out. Or Cas could talk to him.

It was remarkable how normal everything was, how everything could have changed but also stayed exactly the same. They carried on a casual conversation, Jack telling Cas about Sam letting him drive, and asking Dean if that meant he could drive the Impala next. “We’ll go out together and you can give it a shot,” Dean had said, surprising even himself. The answering smiles he received from both Jack and Cas made it worth it. Man, is this what it was like to just be happy?

Adam joined them as Dean was polishing off his second pancake stack.

“Hey Castiel, glad to see you made it back,” he said, pulling up a chair and grabbing a plate.

“Adam,” Cas gave him a small smile. “I’m sorry about Michael. I’m not sure whether it would be a comfort, but please let me know if you’d like to talk—I wasn’t a particularly good brother to him lately, but I knew Michael for many millennia. I’ve learned a lot from him. If you’d be interested.”

Adam nodded. “Yea, actually, I’d like that.”

Dean hesitated before saying what was on his mind. “The spell we used to get to the Empty to pull Cas out… maybe—”

“It wouldn’t work, or at least not in the same way. Castiel tore out his grace to leave, and already had a body. If Michael tore out his grace, he’d be reborn, a human baby with no idea who he was, potentially tormented by memories of a past life he could never understand,” Adam said mechanically. He'd clearly been thinking about it since Sam told him last night what had happened.

Dean thought of Anna, how she’d been locked away in a psych ward raving about angels and demons to doctors that would never believe her.

They lapsed into silence. Dean tried to think of something that would help Adam, but he knew from personal experience that it would be a process. He could only hope that Adam’s new life would be free of the tragedies of his past.

“No offense guys, but these eggs are disgusting,” Adam commented. Dean laughed, glad to see some indication that Adam might pull through okay. He patted Jack on the back. “Sorry kid, not everything is improved by sugar.”

Jack looked skeptical at that prospect.

+

Dean and Cas stood shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen as they washed dishes, Cas on drying duty. Every now and then as Dean handed Cas a plate or piece of cutlery, their fingers would brush and a swooping sensation would run through Dean’s body. The only thing Dean could liken it to was how it felt to have a crush on someone when he was an inexperienced teenager with no idea how to get from handholding to kissing.

“Thank you,” Cas said unexpectedly as he put away a stack of plates.

Dean looked around, expecting Cas to be talking to someone else. “For what?”

“For trying, with Jack. I know it’s difficult for you. He does love you though.”

Dean felt a pang of guilt. “Honestly, Cas, I was a dick. I shouldn’t have treated him like that, he’s a good kid. I was just… angry, all the time, and he was there, and…” he bit his lip. “I’m going to make things right with him.”

Cas smiled as he returned to his side. “Thank you,” he said again.

Dean looked over at him, looking so much more peaceful than he was used to.

“I know I put you through a lot too. I’ve blamed you for a whole hell of a lot that wasn’t your fault. I think… the broken part of me needed to push you away. I don’t know why I did that. I’m sorry, Cas.”

Cas placed his hand on top of Dean’s, stilling it as he scrubbed at a pan.

“You’re not broken, Dean.”

Dean thought of what Chuck had said. _Castiel, the self-hating angel of Thursday…who came off the line with a crack in his chassis._

“You’re not either, you know that right? That shit that Chuck said—you’re not defective. You’re incredible. All the pieces on Chuck’s board, all of us were pawns, we all danced to his tune. Except you. That’s not a defect, you know, that’s an asset, it’s… I don’t know, it’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

Cas was looking at him with such an extraordinary depth of fondness on his face that Dean felt slightly breathless. Had Cas always looked at him like that? It was a familiar expression, maybe Dean had just never had the context to understand what it meant.

He leaned towards Cas slightly, hoping that he might steal another kiss (and when did kissing start to feel so monumental?), but footsteps outside the kitchen made Cas pull his hand away and quickly resume dish drying.

Dean frowned and turned his head to see who’d walked in and made Cas want to get the hell away from him.

It was just Sam and Eileen, looking pleased as hell with themselves, holding hands as they entered. Dean made the quick decision not to tease Sam (too much), thinking that now that things were happening with Cas, it might not be a good time to start embarrassing Sam about his bedroom activities.

“Cas! You’re up!” Sam swooped Cas into his gigantic arms. Cas hardly even looked awkward returning the hug; he’d come a long way from the stiff-backed angel Dean had fought that first apocalypse with.

“Sam,” Cas smiled as Sam released him.

“Glad to see you up and about, how are you feeling?

“I’m feeling fine, thank you. And thank you for your help, I can’t begin to tell you what it means.”

“Don’t sweat it Cas, anytime—well, hopefully never again.”

Cas greeted Eileen in sign language, apparently entirely fluent. Dean wondered how much of his infinite knowledge could fit into a human brain.

Sam clapped Dean on the shoulder and nodded slightly towards Cas, raising his brows in question. Dean rolled his eyes and debated teasing Sam about Eileen after all. Sam was saved by Cas and Eileen joining them, both laughing in a way that made Dean slightly nervous.

They chatted casually for a few minutes (Sam and Eileen were thinking of taking a trip to see Donna, Jody and the girls), but Dean couldn’t really engage. Something felt off. When he looked over at Cas talking happily with Sam, he realized what.

Cas was standing further away from him than usual. Cas had always had an issue maintaining personal space (although now that Dean knew how he felt, he wondered how much of that was actually angelic social ineptness and how much was just _gravity_ ) and tended to stand close enough that there sleeves would brush. Now he was standing with nearly two feet between them, a normal distance for anyone else but nearly unprecedented for them. Dean felt his high spirit from earlier deflate slightly. Maybe Cas was regretting rushing into this thing with him and was trying to signal that without having to say it.

As Sam and Eileen scavenged for leftovers in the fridge, Dean gestured for Cas to follow him, mumbling something about finding him some other clothes to wear.

He led Cas back to his room and turned his back to him as he grabbed a couple of things out of his drawers. He startled slightly when he felt Cas’ hands settle lightly on his hips with his forehead rested on his shoulder.

“I’ve wanted to be able to touch you this freely for years. I was content with never being able to, but now…It’s hard to imagine living without it.”

Dean turned in his arm and Cas lifted his head, running his nose gently along Dean’s. Dean let himself melt into a slow kiss, more intimate than what they’d shared in the car. It was an incredible sensation; Dean thought his heart might stop when Cas deepened the kiss, drawing him closer and encouraging the subtle slide of his tongue over Dean’s. But as much as he wanted to just throw himself into it and ignore his worries from the kitchen, he couldn’t shut down the intrusive thoughts, questioning why Cas seemed to be flip-flopping with his affection.

He broke the kiss, almost instantly regretting it when he met Cas’ eyes, dark and intense as he traced a path with them up from Dean’s lips to his eyes.

“Was that too much?” Cas asked, his voice sounding impossibly deep and graveled.

Dean put a couple of inches of space between them.

“No, no that was great, like really _great_ , it’s just—this is going to sound stupid maybe, maybe I’m just reading into things too much, but earlier in the kitchen, it kinda seemed like you were trying to keep your distance, so I wasn’t sure if maybe you had wanted to take a step back or…” Dean trailed off, realizing that he probably sounded insanely clingy.

“I was keeping my distance,” Cas said simply.

“Oh,” Dean replied, feeling his heart sink, “Okay yea that’s fine, whatever pace you want is okay with me, I’m not trying to pressure you, or or make you feel…” he trailed off again, feeling particularly stupid.

“That’s not what I meant at all,” Cas insisted, looking suddenly distressed. “You haven’t done anything wrong Dean, I just thought that you wouldn’t want me to act affectionately to you with Sam and Eileen in the room.”

“Oh!” Dean felt some of his anxiety ease. He sat on the edge of his bed, pulling Cas by the hand to sit beside him. “No, I mean, let’s not start getting down and dirty in front of them, but I… the thing is, I’ve been a closet case for a long ass time, and I know I put out a lot of deflective bullshit, but I don’t want to be that person anymore. I love you, and I’m not going to be ashamed of that. I don’t want you to stand further away from me, or stop touching me just because we’re not alone. If _you’re_ comfortable with that.”

Dean realized the truth of his words as he said them. If this had been anyone but Cas, the thought of coming out in his forties would have seemed impossible. But it _was_ Cas, and he wasn’t going to fuck this up.

“I’m comfortable,” Cas said firmly. “Just earlier with Jack, I thought you might have been trying to avoid talking about…us, when he’d asked where we’d gone.”

“No!” Dean exclaimed. “No that’s not it, I just don’t really know how to talk to the kid about it. Sam already knows, well not knows everything but knows that I love you, and that you, well…” Dean felt bashful, not wanting to put words in Cas’ mouth, especially with him sitting right there.

“Love you too,” Cas finished for him, smiling.

“Yea,” Dean replied, matching his smile.

Cas held Dean’s hand in both of his, tracing his thumb over Dean’s knuckles. “I don’t think Jack will be surprised. He asked me once why you and I don’t ever go out on dates like in the movies.”

Dean let out a surprised laugh, “What did you tell him?”

“That you’re a closet case,” Cas teased.

Dean buried his smile in Cas’ shoulder, feeling absurdly happy to be able to joke about it.

“I’d like to take you on a date,” Dean murmured into Cas’ neck. “Dinner, dancing… lying out under the stars,” he kissed a path along his neck as he spoke.

And suddenly his head had hit the mattress, and he was flat on his back with Cas leaning over him, bracing himself on his forearms.

“I’d like that,” Cas spoke against his lips before capturing them in an all consuming, soul-searing kiss.

And Dean knew they’d have months, years, a whole lifetime to make up for all the missed chances of the last decade, to go on every cheesy date ever depicted on film. Cas was here with him, and for once, he’d followed through, and it felt like for the first time, he had something that he knew he wouldn’t screw up, something so fundamental to his being that it simply had to be that way. As he wrapped his arms around Cas, he knew with a certainty that he wouldn’t have thought possible before, that there was finally something he could have for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I can't believe the show is done tomorrow. I cannot concentrate on a single damn thing, but writing this fluffiness helped a bit. Thank you so much for reading, this is the first fic I have written in years (and the first I've actually finished since before ao3 even existed) so every bit of engagement has meant so much to me. I am just so full of love in anticipation for tomorrow! Love you all!


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